


river cold, mountain wild

by apocalyvse, keep_swinging, rainstorm97



Category: Z-O-M-B-I-E-S (Disney Movies)
Genre: Addison is a Werewolf AU, Angst, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Future Chapters Could Almost Need a Warning but We're Kinda Just Scraping By, Great Alpha AU, Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Burn, There's Zeddison If You Squint, Werewolves, Wyaddison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23733661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalyvse/pseuds/apocalyvse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_swinging/pseuds/keep_swinging, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainstorm97/pseuds/rainstorm97
Summary: After three years living as a werewolf in a human world, Addison returns to Seabrook and the wolf pack and finds things aren't the way she left them. Old rivalries are rising from their graves, another pack of wolves looms on the horizon, and everyone she knows seems to be going off in their own direction. Only she has stayed the same, ever caught at the crossroads; between Zed, college, a life in the city, far from the forest...and her pack, her freedom.Wyatt.//In Progress; Wyaddison
Relationships: Wyatt Lykensen/Addison Wells
Comments: 14
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys so it's seven am which means this note isn't going to be as long as I want it to be so bear with me lol. This is completely unexpected, I know, but the idea would not leave us be and here we have a, drumroll please, multi-chap wyaddison fic!
> 
> This story is co-written with the amazing zombiedadjokes and rainfallingfromthesky on tumblr aka apocalyvse and rainstorm97 on here. They're amazing people and I wouldn't have wanted to start this crazy journey with anybody else. So here's chapter one guys, we seriously hope you like it, and a comment would make our morning! :)

**chapter one**

_turn up, explain our history_

"How long until you're back in Seabrook?"

Addison glances at the sign on the side of the highway as she passes it, the list of destinations and the miles between her and them. Seabrook is second from the top, right under Sunyshore, 22 Miles Away. "About thirty minutes," she says, and hears him sigh down the line.

" _About_ thirty?" he asks and then laughs, a long and low noise to let her know he's teasing. "You're not sure?"

She rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. "I don't know. I turned the GPS off as soon as I got on route nine." She settles back in her seat, staring down the highway she's currently speeding along as she talks. It's quiet for a Monday afternoon, only a few cars keeping up with her as she counts down the miles to home, the rest of the world unburdened by a summer vacation they don't get to share. "Don't ask me if I'm sure I won't get lost."

" _Are_ you sure?" he teases, mirth in his voice.

"More sure than you were when you got lost between Zombietown and my parent's house last Christmas."

"Hey," he grumbles. "Seabrook looks different with snow, okay?"

"Sure, zombie, whatever you say." She can hear him grumbling in the background, a little bit of Zombietongue slipping into his English, but he's holding the phone too far away for her to make out the individual words, stomping up the stairs in his house as he mutters to himself. From somewhere far away she hears his sister's dog barking, and the shuffle and groan of a door opening and closing.

"How's Nessie holding up?" he asks when he's recovered from the embarrassment, his voice coming through loud and clear again.

"Nessie's a good car," she says, feigning hurt. "She'll make it further than your rustbucket ever will."

Nessie's been with her since late senior year of high school. It was Eliza who had come up with the nickname, unable to stifle a laugh at the ugly pastel green color the compact car had, even going as far to joke that if they painted on some blue scales they would have the loch ness monster on their hands. The name had stuck, to Addison's extreme dismay, even if, over the years, she had come to love it just as much as she had loved the car.

"Hey," he replies loudly, offended, his voice echoing through her car, and she finds herself laughing at him again. "I told you, I'm going to fix it over summer break. Nessie breaks down more than my car anyway, so you can't even talk."

"You said you'd fix it last summer," she points out. "And then you—"

There's a bang from his end of the phone, and then an ' _oof'_ and the sound of barking right next to the phone. Zoey is somewhere in the distance, calling out to Puppy with no luck.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and sits and waits for a reply, listening as the sound of him laughing and shoving the dog away filters through the phone line. It sounds like fun — a lot more fun than she's had in the last two weeks without him, studying for a missed final, stressing about passing and final grades and making her way home alone (and maybe she _had_ been a _little_ worried about whether Nessie could make it the entire trip, but she's not going to tell Zed that).

"Hey, Ads," he says, returning breathless to his phone. "Zoey needs me to help her with something, I've gotta go. I'll meet you at your place in half an hour?"

Her lips twist unhappily, her hand finding her moonstone like it always does in times of stress. She'd hoped to talk to him longer; they'd barely talked since he'd gone back to Seabrook without her, and she's desperate for one long conversation with him after two weeks of nothing but study and quiet evenings with just the television to keep her company. "Of course," is all she says though, swallowing down her disappointment. It's only thirty more minutes. She can survive that long. "Tell your dad and Zoey I can't wait to see them again. Love you."

"Will do, cheerleader. Love you too." The line clicks as he hangs up, her phone beeping before disconnecting the call. Her music resumes, filling the silence of the cabin. She still couldn't believe she was actually coming back home, was almost there, almost back to a town that held so many...memories.

Back in Connecticut.

Back in Seabrook.

She hadn't missed it like she thought she would've, in fact following Zed and leaving was probably one of the best things she had done for herself in years. She missed some little things, some certain people, but that was to be expected when you and your boyfriend decided on a college two states away. It was nice, being so far away, away from everything she couldn't control to a place where there were things she _could_ control.

Freshman year of high school was hard for them in a lot of different ways.

Werewolves — living, breathing werewolves with fangs and claws and moonstone necklaces — came to town about halfway through the year, and with them, Addison had finally found where she was supposed to belong. Or, according to an ages-old prophecy, anyway. She was the Great Alpha of the werewolves, their long lost leader, _a leader of something greater_ , as Wyatt had put it, one of her hands clutched in his, a smile that meant more than it should've stretched across his lips.

Zed wasn't happy about it at the time. Their very first fight was over Wyatt, over the possibility turned reality, that she could've been the Great Alpha. It had boiled down to words that should've never been said, harsh words that should've always stayed hidden, and both found themselves in their first real hurdle since starting their relationship. Something they had to work through, no matter how messy it got. While working through that, Addison began training with the wolves, running with them at night, the full moon high in the sky, Wyatt by her side, a soft hand always guiding her to where she was supposed to be, a gentle push this way and that, a quick grab to her wrist to stop her from going off a ledge she wouldn't be able to leap across.

Something flutters in her stomach just thinking back to it, back to so many memories she had long buried.

Her and Zed were able to work through it, after everything. She had put her foot down, after two weeks of running with the wolves, after two weeks of feeling more at home in a pack than with her friends or at home. After two weeks of following and learning and being _free_. (Addison thinks that's what she misses most, being free. Werewolves were never held down, not by anything, and they came and went like the breeze, something she always secretly envied after being trapped for most of her life.)

After two weeks of feeling like she finally belonged somewhere, she wasn't going to go back to how her life had been. She was going to be free.

She sat Zed down and they talked about all of it, really talked about it.

He told her his fears, nagging and full of jealousy he didn't even know he had, and she had explained that she had her place, finally, something she could call her own. He wasn't happy with her decision in the end — she knew he never was, from the moment he had promised he'd stick with her, always, through it all, his hand squeezing hers a little too loosely, a little too half-heartedly — but she had kissed him, and accepted her necklace the next day. Once the moonstone was placed against her bare skin, she would become a werewolf, forever. Never able to go back, pack mentality or no mentality, an Alpha stands tall while others fall.

Zed didn't go.

As soon as the moonstone had transformed her, she had felt different. She felt like the same person, but little things were different, from the way she could hear the smallest insect, see the farthest tree branch and smell the roadkill miles down the road. Wyatt had hugged her after she had growled, her eyes glowing yellow, two arms wrapping around her waist and lifting her into the air out of pure joy and celebration. She still remembered what he had said to her, his lips by her ear, her feet hitting the ground far too quickly, his lips pulled into the biggest smile she had ever seen.

A car horn beeps from her right, and she readjusts her hold on the wheel as an impatient minivan races past a particularly slow Toyota. Her music clicks to the next song, drums filling the interior of Nessie, her foot pushing on the gas pedal as she sees another sign, bringing her closer to home.

The rest of her teenage years were spent as a werewolf of a pack that slowly, yet surely, became the home she had always searched for. She spent the days with her friends, in classes, after school, hanging out with Zed, kissing lazily over math textbooks spread across her bed, or doing make-overs with Bree in front of her parents' massive bedroom mirror. During the day, she was Addison Wells, human.

During the night, she was far from it.

Though she was the Great Alpha, Willa was keen about training her in everything she needed to be trained in before relinquishing her position as Alpha, which Addison and the rest of the pack agreed with, not that Willa would've taken any other answer.

Making the decision to leave Seabrook, to leave her pack, didn't come to her easily. It came to her over a series of weeks, months. Over countless conversations with Zed and Bree and Eliza, over s'mores with Wynter, hunting with Willa, and late nights on the cliff with Wyatt. Those late nights with Wyatt were the conversations she treasured most, their feet dangling off the edge of forever. He wasn't upset that she had wanted to leave. He understood why. The cliff was their spot, a spot no one else knew about, their escape from the rest of the world. She felt like she was ruining their spot, every time she talked about leaving — leaving this place, leaving her pack, leaving...him.

Her brain drifts to the text she had received from Wyatt earlier in the day, the text she hadn't told Zed about yet. Her eyes glance toward her phone, almost subconsciously.

_I need to talk to you, next time you're in town._

Leaving Wyatt behind was the worst thing about leaving.

He was everything she was not, so polar opposite of Zed that sometimes she wondered how he came to be her best friend. She trusted him with her life, trusted him so much, so easily, and found herself missing him more than anyone else. She missed the way he would hug her, always warm where she was not, always an anchor she never knew she needed. She missed the way he would tap his claws across her arm to get her attention, or the way he would knock his shoulder into hers. She missed his smirks, his smiles, his looks, those looks he always gave her when he thought she wasn't looking, ducking his head by the time she lifted her own. She missed seeing him every night, running by him, being by him, being _with_ him.

She missed everything about him. Three years still wasn't enough time to forget about him. No matter how hard she tried, he was always there, always in the back of her mind, and she would never forget—

No.

She wasn't ready to dig that up.

Instead, she pushes the thought from her mind and fixes her eyes on the road ahead, hands firm on the steering wheel, and home just down the road. She doesn't look at the forbidden forest as it looms on the right. She doesn't think about how well she knows its trees, its rivers and valleys and peaks.

She thinks of Zed. She keeps driving.

* * *

The first thing she sees when she pulls into her street is Zed, parked outside her parent's house.

He's waiting on the street for her, leaning against the hood of his car and scrolling through something on his phone. He only looks up as she pulls into the driveway ahead of him, the golden light of the late afternoon sun catching in his eyes as he grins at her and pockets his phone, stepping away from the car. She climbs out of her car and all but runs towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he picks her up and spins her around, his lips pressing everywhere they can reach.

When her feet touch the ground again, he's pressing his lips to hers before she can even say anything in greeting. She smiles into the kiss, her hands coming up to cup both his cheeks, his hands settling on her hips. He chuckles as they part, and her hands slide down to his chest, her heart happy.

She was home.

"Hey gorgeous," he whispers, laughing some more, Addison unable to keep herself from giggling as she steals another quick kiss.

"Hey zombie," she replies, and they stare at each other for a moment more before she lowers her arms and takes a step back. He clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. She had hoped things would be different back home. "How did things go with Zoey? Was everything okay?" He smiles, thankful for where the conversation is heading.

"Yeah, she just couldn't find the dog's leash, apparently there was no way she could _wait_ to take him for a walk…" He runs a hand through his hair but he's laughing, carefree as he's ever been. She's always envied Zed and his ability to be so relaxed about everything, to get good grades and collect friends and solve problems without so much as raising a sweat. "Was the drive okay?"

"It was quiet." She shrugs. "I guess people don't have much to do on a Monday afternoon."

Zed's eyes shine with mischief suddenly, as he reaches out for her, his cold fingers grasping hers as he playfully tugs her toward him, his other hand coming to a rest on her waist. "Not like us," he says with a smile, his thumb and forefinger pinching the fabric of her shirt.

He leans forward and catches her lips with his own, teasing her, before pulling back a few seconds later, leaving her with a feeling she can't describe. She wants more, but there's something else there too. Something bubbling below the surface, something twisting and turning and knotting everytime they share a passionate kiss like this one, all fire and no warmth.

It's been building and _building_ and growing more noticeable with each and every jump into territory she's known for years; now, however, it all feels like it's uncharted, a map without a destination, bare of spare coins and hidden treasures and oceans so deep and deserts so windy and jungles so filled. She feels different with Zed, different with herself, and sometimes wonders if she ever had anything truly mapped at all.

She shoves her feelings aside and instead focuses on here and now. She hasn't seen him or talked to him or kissed him or hugged him in two weeks. She's not going to let feelings she doesn't understand (or understands far too well) stop her from spending as much time with her boyfriend as she can.

"Zed," she scolds, nodding her head toward her front door, still as perfect as it was years ago. "Not here."

He chuckles, tugging gently at her shirt, "I'm just messing with you cheerleader," he replies, "though it is true. I know it's only been two weeks, but I've missed you." His eyes meet hers, and his hand holds hers a little tighter.

She bites back words that she wants to say, about how it's been seven days without a call and almost three without a text.

How it's just been microwavable dinners and endless textbooks and balls of crumpled up papers.

How it's just been her, on her own, because anytime she tried to reach out, he didn't reach back.

She bites her tongue and listens to the side of her heart that's been longing for him for weeks.

"I've missed you too," she says, and before she can doubt anymore, she's hugging him, her arms wrapping around his back. Her head finds his shoulder while she buries her face into his neck, just wanting _him_ , but that feeling interrupts, stronger than it should be. He doesn't smell like him. He smells like Zombietown, like must and mold and mildew. He smells like Puppy's dog food and peanut butter. He smells like home, like Seabrook.

His arms settle around her, and Addison doesn't feel like she's home.

She feels out of place.

"What's this for?" he mumbles, smiling softly.

She tightens her grip. "Just because I needed it."

He smiles and does the same, holding her as long as she'll let him, his hold steady, and constant and unwavering. Just like he always is with her; steady, constant, unwavering.

Hers.

They stay locked in that hug for what feels like forever, the gentle stillness and silence hanging around them only broken by the sound of a door shutting and Addison's mom calling out her name. She hears Zed groan quietly as soon as her voice reaches their ears and she chuckles as they pull back from each other, Addison reaching up and smoothing back his hair as she goes, smiling at him.

"Do you wanna go for a walk after this?" she asks him, her parents already moving down the front step. "I wanted to talk to you about something and I figure we'll both need the fresh air after this."

Zed scoffs, but there's a knowing grin pulling at the corners of lips.

"If I can survive talking with your parents, then deal."

"You'll be fine—"

"Will I?"

"Shut up, Zed."

He laughs, a sound that reminds her of a summer morning, bright and cheerful, and turns to greet her parents with his most winning smile and the ghost of something reluctant in his eyes.

* * *

Surviving the meeting with her parents was just as difficult as Zed had expected it to be, so as soon as they're able to leave, they disappear into the forest behind Addison's house.

There's a small path made out of packed down dirt leading to a few picnic tables a little-ways in, only about a mile or so. Addison hasn't been on the trail since she was a little girl, her white hair pulled in a messy bun and hidden underneath one of the old baseball caps her father had an abundance of. Her uncle had shipped a baseball cap to her father every birthday until he had passed, and her father never had the heart to throw them away.

She remembers running and being too fast for her father to catch her, only stopping when her mom called out for her, _honey where are you_ , her voice loud and worried sick against the summer trees.

"Hey," Zed says, intertwining his fingers with hers, "what're you thinking about?"

That feeling of confusion, of not knowing whether to go or stay, comes back, settling in her stomach with double the weight this time. Her stomach twists, knotting as it had when he had kissed her, full of a passion she hadn't found in herself in a while. Wyatt's text comes to mind, but so does Zed's hand, holding tightly to hers as they make their way down the beaten trail, the picnic tables close enough to see.

They've been here longer than she's been alive, beaten by harsh rain and heavy snow and relentless wind, tarnished and turning brown, almost matching the yellowed dirt below. There's holes in the benches and she's sure there'll be a whine if she dares to take a seat, but she doesn't think her time with Zed will last that long.

She doesn't know how he's going to react when she tells him about Wyatt, about what he said, and what she's going to do. Her decision is already made, but she still worries if something Zed says will sway her, or make her re-think something she thought she was so sure of.

"So," she starts, catching Zed's attention. "I got a text from Wyatt."

She sees his shoulders tense before anything else, the slight stiffening of his posture at the sound of Wyatt's name, spoken out loud. His hand clutches hers tighter but they keep walking, and he's acting as if nothing's wrong.

She knows him better than that.

"Oh yeah?" he replies, sounding too eager, too happy. Too nonchalant. "What's new with him?"

His eyes are on the path, on the benches, on the sky. They don't once turn to her.

She almost reaches up to touch her moonstone necklace out of habit, a nervous reflex she picked up after becoming a werewolf. But she doesn't want his eyes to find the necklace, to see it and stare at it in poorly disguised hate like he always does, so instead she stays silent as they finally reach the ages-old benches. They break apart, Zed going to the right while she goes to the left, her fingers dragging across the top of one of the tables.

"Nothing much," she replies, trying her best to just stay cool. She can almost feel how he's going to react already, from the way he's keeping his distance, lingering, far from where she stands. She blurts the rest of the words out, wanting them gone. "Just that he wanted to talk when I was in town next."

Zed's smile falters as he processes her response.

This was how it had been with them for weeks now. They were hot and cold, on and off, there and then not. Granted, she was the one who brought Wyatt into the conversation, but she wasn't going to hide it from him. She trusted him and he trusted her. There was never any doubt or—

"Are you going to go see him?" he questions, his voice slightly quiet. Addison looks up and over, finding him leaning back against a tree that's closer to the back table, a big oak thing that might even be older than the hunk of rusty, creaky metal placed below its overarching branches.

"It's been three years, Zed," she says, allowing her fingers to get tangled in a spot of metal that's shredded and barely held together.

"Damn, that long already?" He chuckles half-heartedly, running his free hand through his hair. "Time flies when you're having fun, I guess."

Addison nods, silent.

Zed looks down at his converse, kicking at the ground.

"I'm going to meet him. Tonight." She doesn't look up.

He does. His eyes zero in on her across the small space, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Why?" he asks. There's no malice behind the word; if anything there's just hurt and misunderstanding. Addison exhales, pulling her hand back from the table and wiping it on the side of her pants.

"You know why, Zed," she lifts her head then, meeting his eyes, "I miss the pack. I miss him. He was my best friend."

He's stiff when he nods, otherwise still.

"I know."

She wants to go back, back to how they were when she first got here, back to the hugs and the kisses and the pretending that everything was okay with them, would always be okay with them. She wants to go back and yet...

They don't say anything else.

* * *

It's almost dark when she escapes the house again, when Zed is gone and her parents are done asking questions about college that she doesn't want to answer and dinner is left bubbling quietly on the stove with a promise to her mother that she'll be back in time to eat with them. She walks alone to the forest, following the same path she'd walked night after night throughout high school, right up until she'd left. She's made it further already than she has in years, as she gets out on the old walking trail along the highway, the final part of the journey.

It's been a long time since she's been able to bring herself to go out into the forest, to feel like the pack might welcome the sight of her there, that they wouldn't run her straight out of the trees. It's hard to tell, in the years that have passed, if they are still willing to understand why she left after fighting so hard to become one of them, or if her memory has tarnished and turned bitter over time.

The gates to the forest still stand buckled and rusted through in the way of the old mill road, an old chain looped between them in the pretense of holding them closed. Its padlock lies on the ground, dented and beaten and twisted out of shape. She wonders which of the wolves did it, and what sort of statement they were trying to make. There's enough room between the warped metal of the gates for her to slide through the bottom and so she does, climbing slowly to her feet on the other side.

The wind hits her as she does, whipping her hair around her face and setting her moonstone alight. It brings with it all the scents of the wild; the sharp pine of the trees, the till of the earth, the musty hide of deer as they ghost through the valleys and up the mountain in their search for the sweetest feed the forest can offer. Her eyes grow sharper and her lungs deeper. The moonstone warms her such as she doesn't need the jacket she'd been huddled in anymore — she strips it from her body and leaves it under a tree out the front of the ruins, where it won't disappear while she is gone.

She rolls her shoulders, bares her fangs, and feels _alive_ for the first time since she walked out of the forest.

There's a sound behind her, the whisper of a boot treading through undergrowth, the faintest rustle of leaf litter as it is disturbed. She whirls around to face the dark depths of the forest, her eyes searching, her ears straining for any other clue as to what is watching her. The trees around her rustle as a gust of wind picks up, shaking their leaves and throwing her hair around her face, locks of ghostly white shining silver in the last rays of the sun. When it's safely tucked behind her ear again, he's there, a shadow between two trees blown in by the settling wind.

"Wyatt?" she calls, not quite able to believe that it is really him, after all this time.

The sound of her voice draws him forward, out of the forest and into the light.

Her breath catches in her throat when she sees him, striding out to meet her with a deftness to his step and a quiet confidence in his eyes, far from the caution that had been captured in his every movement when she had last known him. He is not the boy she knew in high school anymore; he is older, stronger, freer, all hard edges where he used to be soft lines.

"Hi, Addison," he says.

The light catches on his cheek as he does, highlighting his pack mark; three little lines, drawn sharp and straight along his cheekbone.

His fangs shine in the moonlight as he smiles, and Addison finds herself unable to look away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the support with the first chapter, we really liked how this chapter turned out so we hope you do too. We would love to hear your thoughts so please leave a comment down below if you enjoyed it! :)

**chapter two**

_pull back the veil of mystery_

"I didn't think you'd come," Wyatt says with a smile, taking a few steps forward. She wasn't expecting him to smile, and it takes her breath away, if only for the brief moment that it settles on his face, gone before she can put much thought into it.

"I didn't think you had a phone," Addison quips in response, smiling to let him know she's joking. "Of course I came; why wouldn't I?"

"It's just...it's been so long." The light catches him differently the closer he gets, one step after another, and soon there's only a foot or two between them. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to come back. I thought you might be enjoying your human life, college and stuff." He pauses, and then says carefully, "Zed."

Her heart beats faster.

"I always want to be part of the pack," she says. "You know that." She looks down, kicks some leaves aside with her boot, exposing the dirt of the ground below. "I meant to come and see you last summer, but I was just so busy with—"

"You don't have to be sorry, Ads," he says, his tone quieter. "I'm just happy to see you." They lapse into a silence, way more awkward than she had anticipated. _It shouldn't be like this_ , she thinks, shifting from one foot to the other. He was her best friend for years upon years, and now it was like they were strangers, even though they weren't. They could never be strangers because she couldn't ever forget about him, forget about his smile and his eyes and his hair, three little things that only made up half of what she—

She clears her throat and wonders if seeing the rest of the pack would be like this, tension she can't disperse hidden below the surface, because she and Wyatt had always clicked, had always flowed together easier than any river or creek or stream. It hurts her heart, knowing that, even though it was stupid of her to think nothing would change, things had; Wyatt was different now, and so was she.

"Hey," Wyatt says, and her eyes turn upwards, to the soft grin that blooms on his lips. "I'm glad you're back."

He steps forward, closing the distance between them, and suddenly she is wrapped in his arms, the heat of his body a deterrent to the cold that is settling over the earth as night ushers itself in. She hugs him tight in response, closing her eyes against the warmth of his chest, and for a minute, it feels just like old times, like they are teenagers again and they had never parted.

"Will the rest of the pack be glad I'm back?" she dares to ask as they part and she catches the slight twist of his lips out of the corner of her eye, a frown he hides too quickly.

"They won't go against me," he replies, his voice suddenly barbed with an edge and a bite that he never had before. Her eyes flick over again to the mark on his cheek. _Alpha_ , she reads in the three little lines painted there, and wonders what he went through to get it. _Why_ he got it.

Wyatt was never meant to be Alpha. Not because he was lesser or weaker or unworthy. He was Beta because he had a heart that some of the other werewolves lacked, kind where they were heartless, forgiving where they were ruthless. It was why he and Willa were chosen. She was the flames and he was the water meant to douse them.

Or at least, to Addison's knowledge, from snippets of information and prophecies she had gathered over the years. Lighter tales from Wynter over s'mores at the fire, neither willing to stoke the flame. Honest stories from Wyatt on the edge of the cliff, his voice wavering. Harsh truths from Willa as they stalked their prey in the forest, her eyes never leaving her target.

Wyatt being Alpha meant the balance had shifted, that something had happened while she was gone, something that had left him with no other choice, because that's just who he was. She knew him, and she knew he would've followed Willa faster than she could've told him no. Him being here, him being Alpha...

The thought sends a shiver down her spine.

Where was Willa?

"So you're...in charge now?" she asks carefully, not sure where she should even start to ask about it. His hand reaches up and touches his cheek, unbidden, and his face twists into something unreadable. For a long moment, he doesn't say anything at all in response.

"Can I show you something?" he says in lieu of an answer to her question, and her stomach twists in dread of all the things he will not say. Still, she pastes a smile on her face and nods, pretending not to notice that he has blown her off, that she knows there are things he's not telling her.

He gestures for her to follow and leads her into the trees, just slow enough for her to keep up. It's not as easy as she remembers it being, to move through the trees like a ghost, to navigate the mountainous terrain of the forest as it rises and falls and drops, large rockfalls and thickets too dense to pass through in their way. She'd never been the perfect wolf, but she'd been _better_ than this once upon a time, rather than following along blindly like a clumsy pup under a new moon.

Wyatt is harder to keep up with than ever before; the years they've spent apart have refined his movements and sharpened his eyes, made him quicker and quieter than ever before. He was born into it, so he was always one step ahead, always turning around to make sure he didn't leave her behind. Once, she had felt like she might be able to catch up to him, even to surpass him, but as the years have stretched, so has the depth of his skill, the ease with which he navigates his home.

She pauses to watch as he leaps up and over a tumble of rocks that have fallen down the mountain and disappears on the other side, leaving her in his wake, hopelessly lost. The rocks are high and slippery with wet moss, hard to see her way up in the fading sunlight. She hears him jump and land on the other side, and steels herself; she is a wolf, even if she is not a very good one, and Wyatt is waiting for her.

She places her hands against the damp rock, and she climbs.

He watches her with a grin as she slides down the other side, picking her way down the rocks to the safety of the ground again with twice the caution of any other wolf. "Too high for you, Alpha?" he asks, but it is not unkind, his eyes alight with humour.

"Maybe a little bit," she admits, wiping her hands on her pants. Already, there is dirt caught in the creases of her skin and packed in under her fingernails; almost like she never left at all. He laughs at her and kicks at a rock, his lips still pulled into a smirk.

"So," he says casually as he begins the walk again, "How are things with Zed?"

Addison wrings her hands, careful with where she steps as they descend deeper into the forest, green trees and greener brush stretching out all around them, complementing the dark purple sky above as the sun dips below the horizon.

"Good," she answers, her voice carefully neutral. He jumps on top of a log and walks across it easily, hopping off at the end. "Really good." Her stomach twists at the words, like she's lying to him.

Wyatt glances over as they make their way carefully across a small creek, the water lapping at their boots. "That good, huh?" he asks as he hops from rock to rock, something odd in his tone.

"Of course."

At the last stone, Addison decides it's a small enough gap and jumps to the grass awaiting her on the other side. Her foot barely catches the edge of the bank, just a few inches short of a safe landing, and she starts to fall. She throws her arms out in a pitiful attempt to save herself, panic clutching at her, but just before her back hits the creek, strong arms wrap around her waist and yank her forward to solid ground.

She exhales in relief, looking up and seeing Wyatt standing there, his arms crossed against his chest. "Slacking with your training, Alpha?" he asks, his voice teasing.

She smiles and shakes her head, bringing her attention away from his arms and back up to his eyes. "Thanks for the save," she replies, and she watches as the werewolf smiles before nodding his head towards the direction they were originally heading.

"Come on, there's still a-ways to go." He begins walking again, and she hurries to keep up, matching his pace.

"Where _are_ we going?" she asks, sticks and leaves crunching underfoot.

"Somewhere." She rolls her eyes when he laughs, unable to keep up the joke.

"Wyatt," she deadpans, shoving him in the back of the shoulder, another laugh rumbling from him. He turns around and holds his arms out, walking backwards almost perfectly as he does so.

"Come on, Ads, live a little. Let me surprise you with something. Don't you trust me?"

Addison's only slightly worried he'll fall. "Of course I do. But you know I don't like surprises."

He flashes another smile, "Then you haven't lived enough while you were away. Come on." He turns back around and takes off running, leaving her behind, her mouth agape as he moves faster than he ever did years ago, easily dodging stumps and logs and tiny holes to get caught in.

She weighs her options in her head for a minute (when was the last time she was as wild and as carefree as a werewolf?) before taking off after him, following his laughter through the trees.

It's so easy, being with him. All of it is easy, and now that they're together it's like she never left, like she never drifted away in the first place. She hasn't felt this alive since she left Seabrook; and she never once blamed Zed for suggesting they do, because it was her idea too, but being with Wyatt, talking and laughing and _living_ , she can't quite remember why she ever left.

She's exhausted by the time he drops back to a walk again, legs burning from the steep incline of the last part of their mad chase, zigzagging up the side of a mountain. As she stops, gasping for breath, her hands resting on her knees, she realises that her surroundings are vaguely familiar—the trees have grown and fallen and renewed themselves over the years, of course, and the moon that is rising overhead is new to her eyes, but the rocks are the same, as is the tiny deer path that leads them up and up and up.

Wyatt waits for her between the two big old oaks that have stood on this side of the mountain for more years than she has been alive, twisted and bent as ever by the winds that batter them every winter. "Are you okay?" he asks, and there's laughter in his voice, barely hidden.

"Yeah," she assures him between breaths and straightens, waving him away. "That was...that was fun."

He laughs, the sound echoing through the brush surrounding them, and Addison can't help but smile as he waves her on, allowing her to lead the way. "Just on the other side," he tells her, his chest close to her back as she pushes through overgrown branches and leaves, and she swears she can hear his smile in his voice. She shoves aside the final branch, and for the third time that night, all of her breath leaves her lungs because they're not just anywhere — they're at the—

"Our place," she whispers, taking a few steps forward so she's in the center of the room, spinning in place as her eyes take in the cavern she used to have the path memorized to, the cavern she swore she would never forget.

(She doesn't think she ever did, just thinks she stored it away, fearful of what could be lurking there if she dared to think of it or speak of it, worried that she'd never see it again or Wyatt again, that she'd never be a true werewolf, fierce and wild and free.)

Wyatt's smirking as he walks up beside her, taking in the cliff; their place. It's a shallow cave pressed into the side of the mountain, a rocky overhang with a bit of flat rock underneath it, enough for a small gathering of people to sit together and talk. It was once a meeting den for Elder wolves from ages long since passed, before Seabrook ever existed. The rock is carved by hand, names hewn into the walls of Alphas and Betas and were-pups and healers, a whole civilization, created from nothing and carved into eternity.

At the other end of the cave, the walls peel away, the edges of the cliff and the overhang above sitting flat like the gums of a gaping maw without any teeth, leaving a piece of sturdy rock jutting out into the open, suspended over the empty skies of forever. _This_ is their place, the place she could never forget. This is where they have sat, hour after hour and night after night and talked and watched and lived, free of packs and families and obligations.

This slab of rock is where they found forever, promised forever, learned forever. This is the place she could never forget.

"I can't believe this is still here," Addison whispers as she makes her way over to the deepest corner, lifting her hand to the rock sitting there. It's cold against her palm, and she can't see the names this close, the moonlight her only ally, so she reaches for her necklace, lifting it up. It lights at her touch, glowing blue, her fingers tracing over the etched lines, her nails catching on the abrupt starts and stops, letters notched across, one after another, random in their placement but precise in their ordering. The light from her moonstone catches Wyatt's attention as she drags her hand across so many names they could never count them all.

_Wilona._

_Winnie._

_Munroe._

_Landon._

Names from anywhere, everywhere. Werewolves from different packs, all come together as one, untied, never to break, never to fall. The packs had gotten more divided over the years, as the old had passed on and been replaced by the new, and while Addison and Wyatt and a lot of other wolves were glad some traditions were forgotten, she did wish the packs would remember where they came from. How they prevailed against natural disasters and forest fires and humans with too much time on their hands to tinker and create. If she was ever to become the Great Alpha officially, she thinks it would be the first thing she would do.

_Rachael._

_Orson._

_Wynona._

Addison's finger catches on the name. Wynter's mom. Wyatt walks up beside her, his eyes flickering across the names himself, and when she looks over he's looking at a different set of names, names that she knows all too well.

_Rohan._

_Wilane._

_Willa._

_Wyatt._

He hovers close enough to the wall that he could trace the letters if he wanted to, but he doesn't, doesn't allow his eyes to linger on his mom's smooth letters, his dad's blocky ones, or his sister's curved ones a few spaces over, the last letter of her name overlapping the shakiness of his own lettering.

She lowers her hand from the wall so that she can take his, and he startles at the action, almost jumping back, lost to a sea of memories even he couldn't swim back from. She smiles at him. Her fingers are freezing from the rock, cold washing over his overheated skin. He offers her a half-smile, reaching his other hand up to scrub over his face, and if his hand catches tears, Addison doesn't see.

She's still holding his hand as she continues along the wall, coming to a stop near the opening, Wyatt trailing behind her. Right where the rock curves around there's something written by clumsy, fumbling, drunken hands, written with boisterous laughter and loud protests over whether or not it was a good idea.

_Addison  
The Great Alpha._

"Do you remember this?" she asks him, her moonstone back in place, the moonlight enough for this memory.

"Of course I do. That was the night you groped me—"

The word is barely out of his mouth before she's smacking him in the arm, her mouth agape. "I did _not_ ," she defends, her voice echoing through the cavern. Wyatt rolls his eyes, already holding back

"You were either groping me or trying to shove me off the cliff."

Her cheeks flush, bright red, and it's then that he laughs, unable to hold it in anymore. He's smirking and she's having trouble hiding her smile, and when he bumps his shoulder with hers, playful, him, them, her heart feels full. They're still holding hands as they make their way outside the cavern, sitting down so close to the edge that one stray gust of wind could cause them to tumble over.

"Wyatt?" she asks when the silence draws long and he has run out of distractions to ask her about.

"Hm?" he replies; his eyes are fixed on the horizon, the stretch of the forest as it rises and falls with the mountains, blind to her. Only the pack mark stares her in the eye, purple like stained ink on a blank page, three marks instead of two. Wrong. Different. Condemning.

"Where's…" She's not sure how to approach the subject, how to ask what could be a difficult question for him to answer. "Are you the Alpha now?"

He stiffens, the tension running up his spine and settling in his shoulders. "I am," he says, like he's forcing it out through reluctant teeth. "Willa is...gone," he adds, before she can even ask. "Wren is Beta."

"I didn't realise so much had changed," Addison says, carefully neutral, and leans back on her hands.

"It's been a long year." Wyatt's voice is low and contemplative, detached from the conversation as his attention turns outwards again; always on the forest, always on his territory and all the things that could be out there. It's out of character, for Wyatt; and sure, she's barely seen him in three or more years, but she's never seen him so distracted before, his eyes turned so far away from her.

"Can I ask...what happened?"

He's quiet. She doesn't know what he's thinking, and she doesn't know what to think. For a moment, she thinks he's going to keep it from her, not tell her what happened and why, and then he's watching the treeline. "Willa's...there was...a misunderstanding. She was exiled from the pack. I took her place."

 _Misunderstanding._ She rolls the word around her head, trying to divulge meaning from what little he's given her. It doesn't make sense, not to her; she'd always thought this pack was tight-knit, unlikely to turn on each other. Maybe she was incorrect, or maybe the years have split the wolves apart, like they had split her and Wyatt.

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" she asks, careful not to probe too far in case he up and leaves her here. She's always thought him steady as a rock, faithful and unshakeable, but tonight he is almost flighty, perched at the edge of their place like he could disappear at any moment.

His face twists, unreadable. "No," he answers before she can say anything else. "I need to ask you a favor."

"A favor?" She turns in her seat, one leg thrown over the edge of the cliff and the other tucked up beneath her. "What is it?"

"Well," he starts slowly, like he's almost afraid to ask now that it comes down to it. "You know about the other packs, right? River Pack, Mountain Pack, Lowlands…" Addison nods. "Since we got the moonstone back, they've all been coming here to recharge their moonstones, like they used to before it was stolen, and to...to meet the Great Alpha. We've told them that you're — that _she's_ — gone into the wild, that she'll come back when she wants to, but they don't really believe it…"

"Okay," Addison says slowly, trying her best to keep up. Wyatt takes a breath, and then continues.

"The last pack to come is Mountain Pack," he tells her, and his eyes turn out to the wide view before them — not towards Seabrook, off to the left, a mass of winking lights cluttered on the edge of the ocean. "We don't know when they'll arrive, or how long they'll stay, but I was hoping—"

"You want me to be the Great Alpha," she finishes for him, far more succinct than he was ever going to be.

Wyatt nods. "If just one pack sees the Great Alpha, they will all stop asking. And you won't have to _do_ anything but pretend to be an Alpha — and, I mean, you're cheer captain, you're already a great leader. It'll be a piece of cake."

"I haven't been cheer captain in years, Wyatt," she reminds him.

"You're still a leader," he insists. "You always have been, and you always will be." He ducks his head down. "You'd probably make a better Alpha than I do."

"That's not true."

"I think it is." His eyes meet hers. "I told you, you were always destined for something greater, Ads. Leading the pack, it's your destiny." He winces, realizing the weight of his words a second too late. "Or, if you want it at least."

She sits still for a moment, following the line of his sight out into the misty depths of the mountains, dark under the half moon's light. She's conflicted; it would be so easy to take up his offer, to come back to the den and the pack and the freedom of running through the forest for a few days, or weeks, or months. But Zed...she was supposed to be spending her summer with Zed. To fix whatever was broken between them, to get back to where they were before. He wouldn't be happy, if she took off into the forest with the wolves again, if their time together was cut short.

She _really_ wants to help Wyatt though. To be a wolf again, just for a little while. It's been so long since she's run free like this, wild and untamed. For three years now, she's been far away at college, tied to her classes and studying and nights out with Zed's ever-growing circle of friends while hers remained just two or three of her classmates.

She'd thought when she moved, that she would love her classes like she'd loved learning at school, that she would cheer on the local team in her spare time and make plenty of friends and maybe even find some time to go to the national park down the road and be a wolf for a while, the way her moonstone always begged her to be. Nothing has turned out the way she'd hoped it would, she realises now, looking back. The only thing that ever stayed as golden as it was in her imagination was running with the wolves here; with Wyatt, when she was younger.

She feels like she's crazy, like she's making a commitment she might not be able to keep, but she nods. "Okay," she says, meeting his eyes, brown clashing against blue. "Okay."

He smiles, and his fangs catch in the moonlight.

This time, she watches him, watches as he gazes from one end of the valley known as their home to the other. Again and again and again, her eyes find the Alpha mark, stark against the white of his skin. It looks wrong, not like him, its meaning too harsh when it is placed under his soft eyes, and the smile that tugs gently at his lips. She wants to mention it, how the Beta mark suited him better, how different he looks now, but she bites the comment back, _you'd probably make a better Alpha than me_ echoing loud in her head.

"It's been a long time since I was a wolf though, Wyatt," she says quietly after they sit in silence for a little longer, the moon high in the sky, not a cloud in sight, the night seeming endless when they're up here, on the verge of so many old promises.

Wyatt doesn't look worried. "That's okay, Ads," he reassures her, something familiar in his tone that makes her stomach do flips. "We can fix that."

His fingers brush against hers, claws dragging feather-light against her skin. She almost grabs his hand, intertwines their fingers, does all the things she should've been doing with Zed. She gently pulls her hand away instead, folding them in her lap, and he turns back to his never-ending surveillance of the mountains he's been left to rule, unaware of her eyes when they turn back to watch him again.

If she had to pick, she was glad Willa was the one gone.

She doesn't think she would've been able to come back home and discover that he was gone. A shiver runs down her spine, summoned by the dread that creeps through her gut at the mere thought of it.

Wyatt notices, his eyes turning back to her. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm okay. It's just a little chilly up here." The lie slips easily through her teeth and he nods, reaching his arms up and stretching.

"I would say I could warm you up, but..." He chuckles, smirking, and she's reminded of the days spent in high school, when Zed and Wyatt were unable to stand each other. Wyatt would push Zed every opportunity he got, because he knew he could, Zed groaning and muttering and cursing in zombietongue so colorful even Addison couldn't keep up.

"Zed." She offers for him instead, her body stiff, her voice firm.

Wyatt nods. He leans back on one hand, putting distance between them. "How long can you stay tonight?" he asks, rather than pursuing a topic he has no interest in.

She glances towards the bright lights of Seabrook and thinks of her parents, and her promise to be home in time to eat with them. "Not long," she sighs regretfully. "An hour, maybe."

"Will you come back tomorrow?"

Her eyes linger on Seabrook, and the dark line of the wall that still stands between it and the scattered lights of Zombietown. She needs to see Zed tomorrow. She's been waiting so long to see him, and she'd had precious little time with him today, between her parents and trying to convince him that coming out here was a good idea…

"I'll try," she says, the best offer she can give him.

Wyatt nods and turns back to the mountains, his eyes fixed to the wild just as hers are to the bright lure of civilization.


End file.
